From Darkness Till Light
by Calypso Diangelos
Summary: For seven long years there has been no music in the labyrinth. But when Christine returns to Erik’s world of unending darkness with her beloved child she will unknowing bring his enthralling melody into the light once more. *Finished*
1. Return to Night

From Darkness Till Light

By: Calypso

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Based on the musical 

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

I do not endeavor to make a profit from this so please do not sue me

Ilisandra is an original Character so if you intend to use her for any reason please contact me first..

A question could be seen in the eyes of Christine's daughter's, for she couldn't understand why it was they'd come here. As the light grew dimmer she clung closer to her mother and her questioning look turned to one of fear, but her mother could only smile at her through a mist of memories. Trance like she descended into the underground labyrinth, needing no light to guide her to her angel.

By the lake, she found the barge rickety and dilapidated, yet it would hold to carry her and her child across. "Mama, I'm scared." For a moment, her daughter's voice brought her to reality, but for once it wasn't enough to turn her back. After seven years she had at last broken through the illusion if love Raoul had cast about her. For a long time now she had seen the smiles and the knowing glances that he had shared with young actresses and opera singers, and for all that time she had ignored them. Thinking only of her little Ilisandra, she had stayed beside the Raoul her in an attempt to secure her child's future.

"Come Ilisandra, there is nothing to fear here." Reaching out her hand she brought her daughter into the barge and onto the lake of dark swirling mists. Christine's heart leapt within her chest and melodies danced through her mind. For seven years she had not sung, abandoning her music along with her memories, if she did not think of Erik then perhaps she would not feel that she had abandoned him. Not have to live with the knowledge that everything which befell him had been because of her transgressions. 

"Mama, don't cry." Soft gentle hands wiped away her tears as they had many times in the past. Ilisandra was barely seven, but she understood heartbreak in a way that no child of such an age should. So many times she had seen her mother crying silent painful tears as she watched her husband walk out the door to one 'business meeting' or another. This time though, the tears were of anticipation and not sorrow. 

"It's alright now pet." Christine grinned reassuring at her daughter and wiped at her eyes as they reached the gates on the other side of the lake; this was not a time for tears. As they stepped through the gate, her eyes roamed about finding everything was covered with dust and sheets. For a moment disappointment flickered in her eyes. She hadn't known what to expect, but in some part of her heart she had hoped that he would be waiting for her. Letting go of Ilisandra's hand she moved forward towards the mirror, removing the sheet that covered it. "Where are you my Angel?" Reaching out she touched the mirror, letting her hand rest against the cold glass before bringing the hand back to her cheek. "Why aren't you here?"

Behind her Ilisandra had found Erik's Organ and began to play. The song was _Vesti La Giubba _from Ruggiero Leoncavallo's "Pagalacci". Ilisandra was young, but her father loved music and had insisted on lessons since she was three. Suddenly, a voice rang out behind her, clear and beautiful singing the sorrowful aria several octaves above the tenor for which it had been written. 

Recitar! Mentre preso dal delirio,  
_Perform! While overcome by delirium,_  
non so piu' quel che dico, e quel che faccio.

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I no longer know what I'm saying or what I'm doing.  
Eppur e' d'uopo... sforzati!

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And yet I must. Force yourself!

For a fraction of a second Ilisandra stopped playing. Never in her life had she heard her mother sing, and to hear her mother's voice ring out in such radiant angelic tones was beyond her imagination.

  
Tramuta in lazzi lo spasmo ed il pianto;

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Transmute the spasms and the tears into buffoonery;

In una smorfia il singhiozzo e'l dolor... Ah!

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the sobs and the pain into grimacing smiles.

Ridi Pagliacco, sul tuo amore infranto!

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Laugh, Pagliaccio, about your crushed love

Ridi del duol che t'avvelena il cor!

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Laugh about the pain that poisons your heart!

When the song finished, Ilisandra immediately ran from the piano bench to her mother's side. "Oh mama! That was marvelous." Christine didn't respond something in her eyes was distant and almost fearful. The hand she rested on her daughter's shoulder was clenched into a fist. Questioningly Ilisandra took the hand off her shoulder and pried it open to find a simply gold ring lying in her hand. Seeing Ilisandra holding the ring seemed to bring Christine out of the trance that she had gone into while singing. Suddenly she was unsure of why she had come, and her heart faltered as reality took a strong hold upon her. She was no longer a chorus girl of the Paris Opera House, she was the wife of Le Vicomte de Chagny, coming here had been a mistake. Defiantly she ignored the part of her mind which told her that coming here had brought her peace, that releasing the music which she had kept locked up for so long had let her soar on the wings of freedom for those few brief moments. 

"Ilisandra give that back to me." Relinquishing the ring without protest Ilisandra looked up at her mother, wanting to know why. "We should leave now love, promise me you won't tell your father I brought you here?" Ilisandra nodded. The rest didn't matter now, she had heard her mother sing, and now she knew that 'mama' was an angel.

***

For Erik It had been seven desolate years, seven years of not knowing, of never leaving his layer he had at last seen the one ray of light that had been shed upon his life. He had held on to that ring for seven years hoping that she would one day return, that one day she might sing for him once more, and today she had. For but a second he had allowed her to see him as she dropped the ring into her hand. His heart had broken open as he heard her sing, and once again his entire being had been laid before the majesty of the music she brought into his very soul. He had seen her tears as she came across the lake, and it brought back all of the wraith he had once almost bestowed upon Raoul. She was unhappy, he knew that, and it hurt him beyond words. Erik watched as Christine walked out of the labyrinth with her beautiful talented daughter and knew that he could not let his heart rest until she was again soaring with the melody of her music. "And so Christine, it begins anew."

Authors Notes: I hope you liked this, if you do, write reviews and I'll finish it. If not, I'll remove it from your presence. I've never written Phantom Fic. Before so if this isn't satisfactory. I won't be surprised.


	2. Of Home and Happiness

Chap 2 

When Christine and Ilisandra returned from the opera, Meg's calling card waited in the entrance hall and Meg herself sat awaiting them in the parlor. Since Christine had left the Opera Meg had risen in prominence and was currently one of Paris' star ballerinas, and while unexpected, her visit was not all-together a surprise. The two were not as close as they had once been but their friendship had remained strong throughout the years.

"Aunt Meg!" Ilisandra ran into Meg's waiting arms the moment she saw her. Unlike her two aunts on her father's side Meg was not stiff and scolding, always telling her to respect her elders and that public displays of affection were vulgar. Meg was more like mother, loving and sweet first ladylike and proper second. Meg laughed as Ilisandra ran into her arms, picking her up and spinning her around the way father had when she was little.

"My, getting big aren't we? Any more growing and I won't be able to do this." Ilisandra laughed at Meg's teasing and kissed her check affectionately before Meg put her down.

"Meg! It's so good to see you." Christine took both of Meg's hands in her own and kissed her on each check. Then motioned for her to sit back down. "You will stay for dinner won't you?"

"Of course - but oh Christine, you won't believe this." Meg's eyes gleamed with happiness and it was obvious from the disjointed manner of her words that she was deliriously overjoyed. "I'm going to be married Christine! Can you believe it? Oh Christine, it's simply been a whirlwind courtship. Barely six months, but I know he loves me. We met at the Opera house, I was visiting Mama and he was there watching the opera… Christine it feels just like a fairy tale, and it's as if I'm the princess!" Meg giggled girlishly; she shined with the radiance of love and joys that only the young seemed to posses. 

Watching her friend, Christine's heart felt as if it were falling to pieces. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been that happy - except when she'd sung for her angel, _with _her angel. Silently, she prayed that her friend would find more happiness with the one she loved then Christine had with Raoul. "Why Meg… I'm afraid I'm speechless, I wish you the best of course, but six months? You haven't spoken to me of him once! In fact I don't even know whom it is you're engaged to." Christine smiled with brittle radiance, hoping that Meg wouldn't see what it was she was really feeling.

"Earl David Ellison, can you believe it? Me marrying an Englishman, I wouldn't have believed it myself if I weren't living it." Meg laughed again, so happy that she was blind to Christine's raging emotions. "Christine, lord knows I'm not prepared to marry into nobility, and _English_ nobility at that. I know David doesn't care a wit about me being just a dancer, but I'm afraid his family will. Christine… you're the Viscountess de Chagny, in the social circles of Paris you are coveted aristocracy, and more importantly you're my friend." Meg's voice softened, growing small as her excitement faded somewhat. "Christine, I want you to be part of my wedding party, I want your advice and guidance. Say you'll do it?" Christine smiled gently, and seeing the earnest look in Meg's eyes she nodded. Hoping against hope that Meg would find the 'wedded bliss' that her own Marriage had never given her.

***

At diner, Meg's engagement and future husband were the only topic of conversation. Raoul teased her much in the way he would a little sister, and Ilisandra asked her parents for details of their wedding. Raoul couldn't remember a time when Christine had smiled so readily, tonight it was as if Christine had let go of some long troubling shadow and shined with the vitality of it, not for the first time he realized just how wonderful a woman he'd married. In his own social class he had never met someone who took pleasure from the joy of others as readily as she did, and nowadays the only thing he found lacking in Christine was a passion for life and love. 

He remembered that when he met her she shined with both, especially when she sang but after the ordeal with the phantom she had not only shut out her music, but also that spark of passion which had first drawn him to her. For a second, he felt guilty for seeking that passion with others, over the years he had not been physically faithful to Christine, but in his own opinion he had never betrayed her in his heart. Suddenly, Meg made a small gasp, as if she had forgotten something vastly important.

"Oh, what a blundering fool I've been!" Shaking herself slightly, she put her head down for a second before raising it with a bright smile on her face. "David and I are going to the Opera tomorrow, I believe they are performing Offenbach's _Orpheus in the Underworld._ I would be delighted if your family would join us; it would give you a chance to meet him privately. What do you say?" She looked at Christine and found her exchanging a look with Raoul.

"I would love to."

"I'm afraid I have business to attend to." Meg raised an eyebrow as Christine and Raoul again exchanged a look. "However, I'm sure Christine and Ilisandra will attend." Raoul turned his most charming and apologetic smile to Meg. "I promise that I will _make_ myself available for your engagement party and wedding." Meg nodded her acceptance and turned to Christine. 

"There is one more matter, Christine… I've spoken to mother about my engagement, she and I both agree that I should leave the stage once I am married. Before I leave however, I'm going to make one final performance, Monsieur Fermin and Andre have both agreed to allow me the Opera house for that one performance and of course rehearsals. Christine, promise you'll sing the lead soprano? What ever I choose to perform?" Meg smiled brightly, but then her smile began to falter as Christine's face drained of color. At that moment however Ilisandra's voice rang out.

"Of course she will, Mama sings like an angel!" A dead silence fell over the room, and Christine grew even paler then before if that was at all possible. 

Raoul glanced up from his meal more then a little sharply; his mind suddenly troubled. In seven years of marriage Christine had not sung a note of music, not even a lullaby to Ilisandra in her cradle. So how, he wondered would Ilisandra know of her mother's heavenly voice? "Ilisandra, when did you hear you mother sing?" Too late, Ilisandra remembered the promise she'd made to her mother that morning, but unwilling to lie to her father, she thought carefully before answering.

"When I was playing_ Vesti La Giubba _this morning." Raoul, not having been home, found no way in which to contradict her. For the first time in his life he looked upon Christine and wondered just what is was she did in the hours of his absence.

***

Helene to combed out Christine's long hair in silence and wondered what was troubling her mistress, she had not said a word since telling her Megs engagement but having been her personal maid since the time of Christine's marriage she had also become a close friend and confidant. In the first few months of her marriage Christine had felt snubbed by Raoul's peers and the adjustment had been more then simply difficult. Needing someone other then her husband or Meg she had turned to her servants and tried to find a kindred spirit amongst them. Helene was only thirteen at the time and being part English and part Asian understood exactly what it was Christine faced having been shunned most of her life for not being of pure European blood. 

"Did you find your angel Christine?" The question was forward, and would have sounded strange to anyone listening, but having glimpsed some of Christine's past from nightmares it had not taken much to learn the rest from Christine's herself. After seven years time there were few secrets between them, and each trusted the other as if she were a sister.

"I'm not sure." Reaching for her jewelry chest, Christine removed a simple gold chain. Slipping something out from a concealed pocket, she put it on the chain and then clasped it on her neck. When she was done, Helene saw that it was a ring which she had taken out. "This was the ring Erik gave me that night we sang together. I found it in the labyrinth along with the mirror and everything else that used to be there." Christine looked down, fighting back tears. "But he wasn't there," a little sob escaped her then, "I thought I glimpsed him for a moment, but then I realized it was just my memories. God Helene, I'm so scared that he's gone" Helene watched her with pity, knowing just how much finding her angel had meant to Christine. Gently she guided her to bed, and tucked her in much the same way Christine had Ilisandra. Turning off all the lamps in the room, she gave Christine a final glance before leaving. Hoping that the night might bring her comfort, and that the day might bring her love. Love, she was certain, that could only come from a certain angel of music who had most assuredly _not_ forsaken her.

~~~

AN - First and foremost, I'm going to tell you that then next chapter has (what you will hopefully deem) a heartbreaking scene between Erik and Christine. If you review me, it may just come faster, I do however thank you for the reviews I've received thus far. The following notes are rather long, but please read them all. Thank you.

For my own purposes, I don't want to follow the given ages for the characters. This may or may not turn out to be important later on. Right now however, I'd like to say for the record that at the time of my story **Christine is 28, Erik is 49, Meg is 24, and Ilisandra is 6**. Which makes them 20, 41, and 16 respectively at the time of the original story line. Also, **Opera's which I use may no fit into the time period though** they were written within twenty years or so of when TPOTO was set. I need to use them because of their emotional content, thank you once again for bearing with me.

I'd ask the reader to keep in mind that seven years bring a lot of change to people, so if the characters seem OOC at time, please remember that it _may_ be on purpose. Sometimes though it may not be (as I have no beta reader) so feel free to tell me how you feel about things as this comes along. I realize that some of the vocabulary may be repetitive and the grammar incorrect but please try and forgive me for it.

Also, I read Susan Kay's novel a while ago and I read Leroux's novel last summer. The reason this isn't based on those is that there would be too many characters for me to follow up on - not to mention that they have no real bearing on this particular plot. I'm not over fond of the Persian and I also happen to be a very big fan of Michael Crawford. So if that makes any sense, I'm going to proceed to say that elements of the books may leak into this. 


	3. A Reunion at the Opera

Chap 3

Christine had passed the day in a melancholy restlessness and the coming of evening had done little to settle her though outwardly she seemed to have descended into a cold tranquility, inwardly her heart raged with a million unspoken emotions. Alighting from the de Chagny carriage a strange glow seemed to emanate from her entire being as she caught sight of the opera house which had so often haunted her dreams and memories. Behind her Ilisandra's eyes shown as she too saw the majestic building before them, holding Helene's hand she wondered just why this place mattered so to her mama. In the main lobby the three of them met up with Meg, Sir Ellison, and Mme. Giry, and though her mind was elsewhere, Christine noticed absently that Sir Ellison was neither charming nor extremely handsome but instead seemed to have an awkward sweetness about him.

When her clock was deposited of Christine inquired as to which box they would have, obligingly Sir Ellison innocently stated that they were to have the best in the house or, to be specific, 'box five'. Christine felt her very breath run out at those words and Helene afraid that she would faint took hold of her arm as Mme. Giry whispered that she should not fear a phantom of her memories. As the lights went down the famous 'can-can' overture from _Orpheus in the Underworld _began to play and Christine felt all reality slip away from her. Slowly she envisioned the theatre as it had been when she had been upon the stage and by the intermission memories and guilt ran thick enough though her heart that Christine felt as if she were suffocating on them. 

As she absentmindedly conversed with Meg a messenger came and handed her a card. Looking at it she saw the single red rose that was engraved upon it's front and the words 'box seven' written in an all too familiar hand. A rush of remorse flooded her heart then and she almost didn't believe that it was her angel who had sent this. "Pardon me, it seems there's a friend I need to see." Smiling absently to all, she stroked Ilisandra's check before heading into the hallway and towards her angel.

In the dim light which parting the curtains behind box seven afforded her Christine took in the profile of the man before her with baited breath. Even from the angle at which she stood he appeared thinner then she remembered. As she glided towards him he seemed not to notice her though she knew that he must. "The view is better from box five you know." Christine didn't know where the words came from, but on their heels followed a sob which she just barely suppressed. In her chest her heart fluttered like the wings of a dying sparrow and she thought she would die if he didn't acknowledge her, suddenly wondering if this was how he had felt that night upon the roof.

"Perhaps, but there is little to see these days." Erik gripped the sides of his chair with such a force that he knew he had bruised himself. Her voice, which had always betrayed her every emotion, now told him of her deep sorrow. Behind him he could hear her moving and suddenly her presence was directly behind him. A small hiss of in drawn breath threatened to betray his shock when he found that her hand rested on his shoulder. 

"You've grown thinner Erik… you ought to take better care." Her words were absent and her voice was distant, but when she felt him stiffen beneath her gloved hand her eyes began to burn with the tears that she held back. It didn't take any stretch of the imagination for her to realize the likelihood that he hadn't felt the touch of another human being in the past seven years. For the longest moment she feared that he would pull away from her but instead he took her hand in his own and held it to his face, resting his check against her hand, the fabric of his mask and her glove act as a barricade between them.

"Oh Christine," Her name was but a whisper, but it sounded like a gentle melody when it fell from his lips. Gently she withdrew her hand as the lights began to dim, announcing the end of the intermission, and without a word she moved around to sit beside him. Tentatively she took his hand in her own once she was seated, needing to assure herself that he was really there beside her. In the darkness she didn't dare look at him, afraid that the loathing which had plagued her nightmares would be found if she looked too closely. 

Not needing the light as she did Erik watched Christine with intensity, not quite how it was she could take such an easy stance with him after seven years of division. As his thoughts drifted he started memorizing the way the smooth waxy petals of the gardenias gleamed against her hair and then at the bodice of her gown. The elegant silvery gray dress she wore was made of an expensive silk and lined with white lace and ruffles that made her look like the angel he had always known her to be. When he saw the diamonds set in the bracelet which hung so gracefully from her wrist he realized with a jolt of pain that he could have never given her anything so rich. His gaze moved up to her neck expecting to see a diamond choker, but found instead a simple chain with his ring upon it and immediately his breath caught, not daring to hope. 

"Why did you come yesterday?" Erik had already glanced part of the answer to his question in her tears yesterday, but he wanted to hear it from her, wanted her reason to be something more then running away from an unhappy marriage. Christine couldn't read his thoughts didn't know what he was thinking, but she couldn't lie to him and though the truth was what he needed to hear, she couldn't yet speak all of it.

"I needed to know you were still there for me. And I…" Her voice faded, and she let the sentence drift off, still unable to look directly at him. Her body seemed to heave with a sudden pain and unwittingly he tightened his hold on her hand, his touch prompting her to finish her sentence, but she did it ever so softly that he almost missed it. "I needed your forgiveness."

Erik's head swam with that phrase, his heart surging with the implications of her words. "Forgive you? Christine - you could have never done anything that warranted my forgiveness. Rather it's me who ought to beg for yours." Her head snapped around when she heard him, and she could do nothing but hold his gaze for one moment. A tear escaped his eyes and for a single second the rest of the world disappeared and she became so caught up in his emotions she could barely register her own. Erik and Christine each became the sole occupants of each others minds and neither noticed the curtain moving behind them just before a voice broke their silence.

"Mama?" 


	4. Proper Intoductions

Proper Introductions

Ilisandra's voice shattered the illusions Erik and Christine had created, so quickly did Erik disentangle himself from Christine that for a moment Christine thought she had imagined the contact between them. "Ilisandra!" Rising quickly, Christine attempted gallantly to ignore the blood that was quickly draining from her face. "You naughty girl! Where is Helene? She shouldn't be so remiss in her duties." Her voice was cold, and her tone cut like ice, briefly it reminded Erik of his own mother. If he had stopped to think, Erik would not have done what he did next, but his own painful memories possessed him to intervene.

"So, this is the talented child whom I heard playing _Vesti La Giubba _yesterday. Please Christine, would you introduce us?" Erik used his most cajoling tone, manipulating her with the music he knew she could not resist. The manipulation was a mistake, because the moment she heard it she drew her breath in fear. Ilisandra however suffered from no such affliction and instead found herself marveling at the sound of his voice. Mesmerized she started at him, noting his mask, then dismissing it in light of matters that were more important to her young heart. 

"I'm Ilisandra de Chagny Mousier. It is a pleasure to meet you." Curtsying as she had been taught to, Ilisandra attempted to hold back her curiosity and allow the mousier to reply but was unable to. "Mousier, was it your house Mama and I visited yesterday? I've never seen such a lovely organ, and the sound was so beautiful… I feel I was unable to do it justice." Her voice was alive with vitality, and to Erik's delight her eyes did not rest on his mask with curiosity, but rather with anticipation. Her entire face was animated and smiling.

"You played it beautifully my dear; you may have lacked skill but you made up for most of it in emotion." Erik smiled at Ilisandra and was rewarded by seeing her entire face light up. "There is a proper way to play, but I assume you have had no training on the Organ?" 

Ilisandra nodded empathetically, fidgeting under her mothers unwavering yet somehow empty stare. "There's a small organ in my playroom, but it's muted and it sounds funny. Daddy says Organs aren't ladylike so he makes me play the grand piano in our music room. Do you have a piano?"

Erik's face darkened when he replied, not liking the reminder that Raoul had a hand in the creation of the child before him. "Yes, but only a small upright -" 'in Christine's room' were the words that fought to come out, and it was only by chance of luck that he suppressed them. 

"Then you ought to come and play on our grand piano… and maybe you could teach me what I'm doing wrong?" Ilisandra's voice was timid, and even as she made her proposal she looked to her mother as if in appeal. Christine's eyes which before were so empty now filled with inspiration as she regarded her daughters words. "Can he mama?" Christine looked over Ilisandra's head when she replied, instead capturing Erik's gaze and holding it.

"Yes." Christine didn't smile, and made no attempt to mask the true emotions behind her words nor did she endeavor to disguise the question hidden there. "If it is convenient for you mousier, we will be expecting you for tea tomorrow." Erik's throat caught when he heard that, amazed that she would so readily accept him when she had once so feared him. He nodded his acceptance, and as she swept out with Ilisandra besides her Erik wondered just what it was this new beginning held in store for them.

***

It was the sound of humming that first drew Raoul to the door of Christine's bedchamber. Standing where he did he let his hands rest on the wood of the doorframe, just listening to the soft magic her voice carried, the beautiful spell that she hadn't cast since that night at the opera house. When she abruptly stopped, he experienced a sorrow that he hadn't felt since that night she told him she didn't want any more children and asked for a separate room. Inside he heard the shuffling of skirts and Christine giving orders to the maid. "See to it that we have Russian tea tomorrow, the guest I'm expecting despises that English stuff. And see to it that cook makes a Chocolate Charlotte Russe for dessert, it's Meg's favorite, and at least three Cranberry Sherbets with wafers for tea times." 

"Yes Ma'am." On the heels of that statement was a yawn which Christine seemed to note with annoyance.

"Helene why did you not tell me you were that tired? I can take down the rest of my hair on own, go off to bed now." Helene murmured something, but Christine immediately dismissed it. sending her off to bed immediately. Glancing inside the door Raoul watched as Christine combed through her long hair, a slight smile hovering upon her lips, noting with a pang that he had never been able to make her smile like that. As she rose, he backed away from her door, hiding in the shadows and hating himself for having to skulk about his own home in such a manor. Following Christine at a distance, he watched her enter Ilisandra's room, and letting his curiosity win he followed her.

"Oh mama, I can hardly wait for tomorrow. It simply can't come soon enough." Ilisandra seemed to be filled with the same exuberant joy that filled Christine, and not for the first time, Raoul felt like an outsider amongst his own family. 

"I know pet, I once felt the same." It angered him to hear them speaking of something which he hand no idea, and for once Ilisandra's giggles did not bring a smile his lips.

"But mama, Le Maestro - may I call him that?" A brief pause in which Raoul envisioned Christine nodding occurred before Ilisandra continued with the same breathless excitement. "His voice sounded like that of an angel - even though he was only speaking. Oh mama, he's just like you, an Angel of Music!" Christine didn't reply, but in his mind Raoul saw her smoothing Ilisandra's hair then tucking her into bed. He heard Christine blow out the light and retreated softly from her doorframe.

In the hallway, Christine paused and turned back for an instant, glancing at Ilisandra who was already slumbering with a beautiful innocence. "That's exactly what he is pet, my angel of music." The words were murmured ever so softly, yet still they reached Raoul's ears. _Angel of Music_ he had dreaded that phrase his entire marriage, dreaded the day when they would fall from Christine's lips. Could it be that he had returned? For her Angel of Music was his Angel of Doom.

AN - First off, I've been confined to bed for nearly a week with the flu, and thus I have not been able to write for awhile - tissues and a fever aren't exactly inspirational. However, I would like to ask that review me, after all I'm just a poor student who doesn't get paid for pouring her emotions onto the keyboard. Feel free to give me our honest opinion - even if you don't like the direction this is going in. I realize that at this point the story still seems to missing any definite plot but I swear that it'll shape up soon… and who knows, if I get enough feedback it may just speed up my writing process. 


	5. Small Details

Chap 5

Christine de Chagny sat silently in her music room waiting for her tea time guest. Tea was not an English custom of which she was fond, but one which she found very useful upon occasion. As she sat examining the room, she mechanically checked off a mental list. In her mind the question Meg had asked at lunch rang painfully in her skull and in her chest her heart beat so insistently that she thought the entire household must hear it. "So your invitation was given in earnest." How painful it was to hear that beautiful voice, how tragic it was to hear his sorrowful tone. For an instant Christine could have been no more then twenty, listening for her angel of music in her dressing room, but when he did not speak again she turned to him slowly.

"You could have used the door Erik, you ought to know that you're welcome here." The statement wasn't true and they both knew it – if he used the door the servants would've told Raoul when he returned home, and Raoul was exactly why he wasn't welcome – but Christine felt that her welcome at least was enough. "Would you like some tea?" Without waiting for an answer Christine poured him a cup and handed it to him in silence, when he took it his eyes were still on her yet when he sipped ever so mechanically his eyes widened with surprise. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who had remembered after all, it seemed that Christine remembered every detail of how he liked his tea. 

"Mousier you've arrived!" Ilisandra rushed into the room with Helene close on her heels. Surprised and delighted that Erik was here. As she stumbled to a curtsy Helene discreetly closed the door to the Music room; this wasn't a visit that nosy servants should see. "I'm sure I didn't hear the door ring, or footsteps in the hall – you move with all the stealth of a cat!" Erik laughed gently at the six-year-olds antics, motioning Christine and her daughter into a chair even though he was the guest. Helene noted his easy grace and radiant voice with careful curiosity, over the years Christine had spoken of this man many times, but never had she described his physical attributes. As she studied his unearthly delicate hands, she suddenly felt his attention on her and dropped her gaze reflexively. Sensing the exchange Christine immediately made introductions. 

"Erik, This is my friend – and confidant - Helene. Helene, this is Erik, he was my music tutor." Helene curtsied automatically, keeping her gaze lowered. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mademoiselle, please join us." Surprised by the invitation Helene felt herself floundering for a second, she was a maid, and maids don't dine with the guests, seeing her indecision Erik got up and pointed a chair out to her. Though Erik had never visited much – or at all somehow the part of the gentleman came easily to him. "Please, it would make feel uncomfortable to be seated while any lady were standing." Unable to deny his voice Helene did as she was bid and sat. When Erik himself was again seated Christine seemed to suddenly remember her role of hostess and bustled about serving her guests tea and sherbet. As she offered Erik a second cup of tea, his usual fear of daylight and its scrutiny resurfaced, for a second he began to feel suffocated. Childhood memories of painful visits overwhelming his sense of reality until Christine's soft touch and concerned gaze pushed them away.

Apart from the adults Ilisandra seemed forgotten until the strains of a piano filled the room. The music startled Christine at first, it was much bolder then the soft ladylike pieces Raoul usually insisted Ilisandra learn. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one – Christine had often argued with Raoul over Ilisandra's musical education, her opinion of what was 'appropriate' differing greatly from his. The music eased the nerves of everyone, and soon Erik had risen and was on the piano bench instructing her to make changes that improved her playing ever so subtlety, eventually he stopped her and began demonstrating techniques himself. 

Meanwhile Meg's question which had echoed and gnawed ceaselessly at Christine's mind began to fade against Erik's music, and like one entranced she too went to the piano, resting her hand gently on Erik's shoulder as he finished the piece he played. From where she sat, Helene mused to herself just how much they looked like a family. Suddenly the pace of the music changed and Christine recognized it as _Addio de Passato _and automatically she began to sing, letting Erik guide her voice as if seven years had not elapsed since their last lesson.

***

Raoul did not like this. He did not enjoy coming home at three in the afternoon because he suspected a dead man of being alive anymore then he enjoyed sneaking about his own house like a thief. _And yet you have sunk to both_. A voice gnawed at him and had he not been a man who believed in science, he would've thought it was the ghosts of his past whispering in his ear. _It's not me, _he argued, _it's because of him, it has always been because of him. _It was the whining of a child, but Raoul truly believed that it was not him but Christine's Phantom who'd caused the troubles of his marriage. _Christine's choosing to shun me, my own infidelity… him, always him. _

As the carriage pulled up to the house he heard a voice drift down from the music room which was at the far end of the house, the song was enchanting and resplendent. For a single second he was blinded by its radiance, but it was that very radiance that drew the truth from his mind. _So he has returned. Only for him, would she sing like that._ He wanted to alight from his carriage, wanted to charge into his house and storm into that room… and then what? _Cower and beg as you did before?_ That voice again, mocking him, reminding him that the last time he attempted to rescue Christine it was she whom had rescued him. _Rescued you with her love… her love of him._ And suddenly, Raoul felt very much like a very tired, very old man, and with resignation he lowered his head into his hands waiting for the music to end his torture, waiting like a fool who's dreams had shattered. _It was she who rescued me… and I didn't even have the courage to face that. I didn't have the courage to understand whom it was Christine **truly** loved._

***

"Madame, the Vicomte is home." Helene was the first to disturb the silence that followed upon Christine's Aria. The other three people in the room were still frozen in their silent tableau. Christine's eyes fixed on Erik, Meg's question once more running rampant in her mind. Wide eyed and wondering, Ilisandra stood beside her, staring at Christine and Erik in awe and wonderment thinking that if their were angels in heaven this was surely how they sounded. 

"Then perhaps Madame, I should leave." Erik seemed not so much to move as float from the piano. He bowed to the two elder women of the household, and to her delight, kissed Ilisandra's hand. Before he could disappear is a sweep of his cloak however Christine whispered something into his ear. His eyes widened at her words but he quickly gave her a rather curt nod.

Once he was gone Christine instructed Ilisandra to practice piano, then finished her tea. Normally, she sat there when Ilisandra played but today was not 'normally'. She needed to clear her head, but in the hallway found herself face to face with her husband. "I heard you sing." His words came gently, but his expression was accusing. Christine however did not see it; her eyes like her mind were far away. And it was her heart that answered him.

"Wasn't that why you married me?" Sweeping by him she was gone. But the wound she had made cut to quick, and _it_, chose to remain with Raoul.

Authors Notes

Ok, ok, I know the whole Erik at Christine's house thing is surreal, but you know what – its phanfiction I can do what I like! Besides, as I said before over time people can change, and in Christine's case age can sometimes bring maturity.

I would assume from the number of reviews – or lack thereof – to my previous chapter that it wasn't written well. I hope that the response to this one isn't the same. I'd rather not hold a chapter hostage, but surely you writers out there know just how depressing it is to not get reviews. *Makes puppy eyes* 


	6. Christine's Reason

Chap 6

AN: In the second part of this chapter, the **_Italics are recollections_**, the **normal type is the present.** Also, I play around with things a bit here, *** indicates a change in scene. *~*~* indicates a change in perspective.

Dinner at the De Chengy estate was tense and silent. Raoul and Christine avoided so much as looking at each other, a feat made difficult by the fact that they sat opposite each other. The strain was further punctuated by the lack of any actual eating on either of their parts. Ilisandra who understood the tension but not the cause would never in a million years have guessed that her beloved Maestro Erik could lie at its core. Helene came in to deliver Christine her mantle and gloves just as the plates were being cleared. Ilisandra, who had never known her mother to leave the house on her own was shocked and could do little more then watch as Christine swept out of the room without so much as a maid to accompany her.

Raoul heard Christine go as well, and much as he wanted to stop her so that he could play the part of the wronged, indignant husband he knew very well can the could not. After all, how many nights had he left with no explanation but a manipulated half-truth? Raoul knew that he had no right to feel indignant, and by not saying a word Christine was being more honest then all his fine words ever were. He understood all of this, but he did not want to, and all of that knowledge brought him nothing but anger.

"Helene!" The command was sharp, but not loud. When the girl came forward his eyes gazed icily ahead, not sparing the servant with so much as a glance. "Where is my wife gone to?" 

When she heard the question Helene's expression did not change but neither did she did not look at him when she answered his question. "I don't know sir." 

"Where - is - my - wife?" 

"I don't know sir." Helene didn't look up, didn't change her tone. She knew very well that he could fire her for insolence but friendship and loyalty did not allow her to keep her silence. "She did say something about wanting flowers though. Perhaps she went to go buy them." Raoul let out a short bark of laughter, certain now that she was lying. For the first time he raised his eyes from where they had been fixed and looked at her. The cold hatred there was plain, Helene had done nothing to earn that hatred, but it was not she he saw. Without warning he lashed out catching her across one cheek, but the moment his hand made contact the crimson faded from before his eyes and a deep and sudden shame flooded him. Never in his entire life had he raised his hand to woman, but just as his character did not allow him to back down, his pride would not allow him to apologize. Pivoting on his heel he stalked out of the room, calling for his coat and gloves as he did so.

When he was gone Helene ushered a numb and shell-shocked Ilisandra up to her room. Mutely Ilisandra noted the bruise forming on Helene's check, silently wondering just what sort man it was she called 'father'.

****

__

"I want to tell you about my wedding" It was funny how innocently some conversations started, Christine pondered the one she had partaken in at lunch that day as her carriage drove through the streets of Paris, _"or rather what will precede it." _Well - it would have been were the topic not so dangerous. _"I think you already know that the managers have allowed me total control of one performance before my marriage as a wedding present I have chose Tales of Hoffman." _It had all seemedharmless enough at the time in fact to Christine Meg's choice of topics had been at first even pleasant.

__

"I choose it because Mama loves the story, and since we performed it last year most of the company is familiar with it. I will of course be dancing Olympia, and you I think will be singing the tragic Antonia." Christine knew Hoffman well, as a girl she had always liked Antonia, the beautiful maiden who dies tragically just as she has met her first love, but since her marriage she had always felt more like Olympia the ottoman. _"Now, you my dear are married, and such a performance would of course be absolutely scandalous, so David came up with this ingenious plan to change things around. Each principle character will wear a mask so that the audience does not see the singers at all. In fact there will be four Hoffmans rather then one."_ This last sentence should have set off warning bells in Christine's mind yet they invoked nothing but curiosity. The graveyard was in sight now, and the clanging of the horse's hooves began to lessen.

__

"Two of those four Hoffman, the ones in Nuremberg and Venice will attend all rehearsals. Our current principle tenor - who will have no part in the actual performance, will sing the other two. You my dear will not attend rehearsals, but you were once understudy to La Carlotta, and have many connections at the theatre. It would be shameful for you to ignore them, and - don't forget - I am getting married, but with this Opera to take care of - I'll hardly have the time to plan my wedding. You my dear, have been married, you are fully capable of planning a wedding and thus I fear I will very demanding on your time and attention. " None but those who knew her well would suspect that there was a cleverness behind Meg. Cleverness sometimes blindsided by common sense, but one that was at times highly useful. 

__

"But who will sing the other two Hoffmans?" Christine remembered asking that foolish question as she alighted from her carriage, and it seemed that the stone angel upon some forgotten lover's grave was the one who answered.

__

"Do you remember the night of Don Juan Triumphant?"

*~*~*

Erik watched as Christine laid her hand on the cool stone of her father's grave, whispering something to softly for him to hear before stepping back and stilling. It was odd for him to see her pay so little attention to tat grave, he remembered a time when she would come here and simply speak to him for hours, sometimes crying sometimes praying. As she stood there her mind seemed to be elsewhere, _Perhaps she is with me… in the past._ He was always in the past these days, always replaying those moments when she was near. In the darkness he studied her form wondering if her thoughts wondered there to. At long last he decided that he had dawdled long enough and emerged from the shadows before her. 

When she saw him her lips drew into a slow smile though her eyes betrayed her true apprehension. Slowly she drew near him, and once beside him she stopped, as if expecting something. For a second Erik didn't comprehend what she was doing, then realized what she was waiting for. Without a word he held out his arm and she took it without hesitation. In silence they strolled through the graveyard both content to simply share the others company. 

*~*~*

"Meg's told me about the wedding present you left her… ten thousand francs was very generous, it's something that will make her more tolerable in the eyes of her fiancé's family." Christine's voice sounded loud in the still night, but in her mind they seemed to squeak with insignificance.

"I could hardly do less." He spoke briskly, the words sounding much harsher to her then they did to him. 

"Many men would have done far less." For a few moments the silence returned, both pretending to be occupied by the mundane strolling. "She's decided upon Tales of Hoffman as her final performance before leaving the stage… dancing Olympia of course." Christine exhaled, trying to laugh but finding herself unable to. "She want's me to sing Antonia… I'd like you to sing with me." The two stumbled to a halt, and seemed to simultaneously turn to each other. The calm of night dissipated and Christine suddenly became aware of Erik's far too controlled breathing, and of the fist that seemed to clench ever tighter at his side. Without meaning to, she stepped away from him, the fear written visibly in her eyes and when he saw it he turned his back on her, unable to watch what he thought was loathing. Wanting to rush to him and finding she couldn't Christine's eyes brimmed with tears.

"Then give a reason." With those words he was gone, leaving her to sag against whatever stood behind her. Christine wanted to burst into tears but she couldn't, able to utter only of the words that came into her mind.

"Because I chose _you."_

*~*~*

In the not so distant shadows Erik heard her words, and felt his heart break open yet again. _You're wrong Christine. You never chose me… you always chose my **music**. Never me._

*~*~*

Across the street an unmarked hansom cab was still against the walk. Its single occupant had witnessed the scene that passed between the two in the graveyard. The occupant was puzzled - just what did that exchange symbolize? Still pondering he signaled the driver to move, and as three people wondered into the night, their minds lingered long in the necropolis.


	7. The Confrontation

AN - Besides my writing I have to attend school, work, and prepare for auditions. While I do realize that my not updating very often can be a pain for my readers I have a lot of other things to do. Your reviews mean a lot to me and I'm honored that you enjoy my story but I ask for your patience

Chap 7

When Christine arrived home she was as physically exhausted as she was emotionally drained thus it was not until the next morning when she noticed something was horribly wrong. That morning when Helene had come into her room, her hair had been in terrible disarray, so much so that it concealed her face. At breakfast Ilisandra was unusually silent and throughout the house the staff seemed doleful and nervous. Yet it was not until Ilisandra managed to stumble twice on a c major scale that she finally realized something was amiss. "Ilisandra, come here."

Ilisandra rose slowly, not quite meeting her mother's eyes. "Yes maman?"

"What's wrong?" Christine took her daughters face in one of her hands, gentling turning it up towards her. Smiling mildly she brushed aside Ilisandra's bangs, trying to sooth the obvious strain out of her daughter. "Has something happened pet?"

Ilisandra didn't reply, she only blinked at her mother's gentle words. "Darling please tell me what's wrong. I can't do anything otherwise." Ilisandra didn't what to do, she wanted to tell her mother everything - but she was afraid that if she did her father would get angry, and if her father got angry he might hit mother as well. Christine didn't push her any further, instead she gathered her daughter into her arms and gave her a hug. This small act of love had the effect that many more words would not have.

"Maman, after you left last night… papa… he… maman, papa hit Helene!" The horrible words came out at last, and as Ilisandra watched, Christine's face contorted into an ugly mask of anger. With sharp movements, she rose and walked to where Helene stood in a corner, her hair arranged so that it covered her face. In a single motion Christine brushed it aside and saw the ugly bruise there. 

"Go to the kitchens and rub some tea tree oil into that, it'll heal faster." Cold and concise - to the house hold staff the words seemed be the calm before the storm. 

***

The slamming of a diamond ring on the desk of his study awakened Raoul from his brooding. " Are you seeking for me to return this?" 

"What?" Christine's eyes glittered with anger as Raoul stared at her with dumb incomprehension

"I said, are you seeking for me to RETURN this?" In the seven years of their marriage, Raoul had never seen Christine so livid. Always she had resorted to silence in her anger, pulling away from him rather then nagging him as he had heard some wives did.

"What?" Raoul turned his eyes to the desk and saw that it was her wedding ring which Christine had so unceremoniously flung down. "Of course not! What a ridiculous prospect."

"Really? Then why did you hit Helene?" For once Christine was not soft spoken; for once her voice shook with the rage that she felt. 

"Why did I hit Helene?" Raoul's face shut down as he heard the question, his own anger rising up along with his voice. "Why were you in such a rush to leave last night?" Taken aback, Christine did not answer wondering why she had never noticed this insolence before, taking her silence for guilt Raoul turned his lips into a nasty grin. "Let me guess - you were meeting your precious angel." The word 'angel' was uttered with a snarl, and Christine suddenly realized how foolish she had been inviting Erik into her household, had her husband been home one of them would likely have died. "Tell me, is he your lover to?" Raoul spoke in an unthinking anger, forgetting that Christine was not just an inanimate object as many of his mistresses were. 

"My lover?" Christine laughed at him, forcing it out in her rage. "_You_ would accuse _me_ of adultery?" She laughed again, a highly unpleasant sound to his ears, practically shouting her reply. "And tell me, who lives in that townhouse of yours on Lecroux Avenue hum? Surly she's not some widowed relative."

Christine mockery left Raoul feeling hollow - how did she know about the town house - how long had she known that he kept a mistress from time to time? Deadly quiet he said the only words he could think of "That is none of your affair."

"_Affair_ is right mousier. Imagine the scandal it would cause." Though the volume of her voice matched his own, Christine's words shocked him as much as they would have had she screamed, would she truly be so foolish as to bring scandal to her own name to avenge a servant? Surely not! Raoul did not speak his question, but the wild look in her eyes answered him better then words would have.

"What to do you want?" The words came through gritted teeth, and a part of Christine's mind wondered what drove her to blackmail her own husband in such a way.

"You will NEVER lay a hand upon any woman in this house again Raoul! Do you hear me? Not me, not the servants, and not Ilisandra." The last part of her words seemed to snap something in him, causing a response like she had never expected. 

"You indecent harlot! How **dare you** suggest that I would hit my own child! You presume too much Madame, throwing that ring at me as if you had somewhere to go. I suggest you keep in mind that if I hadn't married you you'd still be some pathetic little chorus girl sniveling about some lunatic phantom." Shocked by his words, Christine could not at first reply. After all, how does one react to being called a Harlot by ones own husband? Yet what stung her most was the manor in which he addressed Erik. 

"If I had not married you, I would've been a Diva and I would've been the wife of a man I loved." The words were spoken clearly, both in volume and in tone. They took the wind from Raoul's lungs and forced upon him the truth that he had so long denied. Letting the ring lie where it was Christine walked out of his study leaving him more alone then he had ever had ever been before.

AN - I had meant for this to be longer, or rather more eventful. However Raoul and Christine's argument got away with me. Once again I would appreciate all feedback both critical and otherwise. Thank you again for your patience and I hope you still want the next chapter. J 


	8. The Phantoms Return

Chap 8

The next three days in the De Changy household were quiet ones. Raoul and Christine were not on speaking terms and after their argument neither was able to face the other. Sensing the tension, Ilisandra spoke as little as possible. Her silence and near sullen behavior earning praise from her father as 'much more ladylike' then her usually endless chattering. Slowly, Helene's bruise faded and her skin was near its normal hue once more. At last, Christine could no longer stand the oppression of the house and decided to take Ilisandra with her to the opera house for Meg's rehearsal that afternoon.

The moment the estate was out of sight a cloud seemed to lift from both their spirits and the mother and daughter were animate once more. Lost in recollections of the past Christine told Ilisandra of her first days at the opera, unwittingly excluding all references to Erik, keeping him locked in a corner of her mind. Since the day of her argument with Raoul, she'd moved Erik's ring from the chain around her neck onto her hand, thinking only of protecting Ilisandra from the malicious gossip of servants. Yet despite all of this she was yet unable to admit the truth that lay caged within her heart.

When Christine arrived she was received by the managers without the pomp and circumstance she had become used to over the years. Partly grateful for this she led Ilisandra to the auditorium where the others had all gathered. "Christine! You came!" Beaming with joy, Meg greeted them by raining hugs and kisses upon the two. On stage there were as many familiar faces as there were new ones. The familiar ones greeted her with reserved enthusiasm, for though she had been with them for three years, the conditions of her leaving were too mysterious for them to easily accept. The new ones could not get over Meg's familiarity with someone so socially elite, but then again, few could accept that she was about to be the wife of an earl. 

"Of course I came Meg! This is your parting performance, I would wish it to be perfection." As Meg introduced Christine to the new members of the company Meg glanced around, trying to imagine what the boxes looked like from the stage when they were filled with people. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something flash from one of the boxes, and immediately recognized it as the one she had sat in earlier that week. Timidly she pulled on her mothers skirts, catching her attention long enough to ask for what she wanted.

"Mama… may I go up to the boxes?" 

The word 'no' was on the tip of Christine's tongue when Meg interceded. "Let her go Christine, I used to wonder about here as a girl and it did me no ill." Waving her hand Meg shooed the child out of the room then dragged Christine further upstage to where libretto and music were being handed out.

***

Ilisandra had always been possessed of an inexplicable curiosity; it was something that her father could not understand and something he could not accept. In secret her mother, Helene, and at times even Meg had worked against this - well aware that women as pampered and ignorant of the world as Raoul's sisters could not survive without wealth and servants. It was that same curiosity that carried her to Box Five in search of the gleam she had seen earlier. 

When first she entered the box there was no one about in confusion she walked to the balcony and looked down, when there seemed to be no one about save those on stage and the two managers in the audience, she turned around to find Erik standing there. "Mousier!" Breaking into a smile, she flung herself into his arms, glad to see him even if she'd only met him twice. In the way that Children will, she had already decided that he was someone she could love and trust and be herself around. Erik had not expected her warm greeting and as a result of catching her he fell into the seat behind him. Not noticing that his movements were unintended Ilisandra settled herself comfortably into his lap. "Am I ever so glad to see you! Things have been ever so glum at home, I'm not even allowed to play piano when Papa's home anymore, he says it gives him a headache. And whenever I ask Maman if you can come and see us she turns all quiet."

"Does she." In all his years, Erik had never been treated as if he were just another person, and Ilisandra's warmness overwhelmed him almost as much as her words. Not for the first time he wished that he had not sent Christine away that night so long ago and not for the last time he wondered why it had taken him so long to realize he wished he hadn't. Suddenly of all the voices warming up on stage, Christine's rang out clear and pure as it had always been. Filled with a sorrow it should never have known. 

"She sounds so sad." As if reading his mind Ilisandra expressed his thoughts exactly. "I wish I could make her smile, she hasn't smiled in days." It didn't take any stretch of the imagination for Erik to figure out that he was the cause of it. All of a sudden, something of his old mischievous self resurfaced and a sudden need to make his presence felt took hold. 

"Perhaps _we_ can make her laugh Ilisandra." Setting Ilisandra on the ground he himself stood up. "What do you say?" 

"How mousier?" Erik didn't answer her words but only winked and in seconds he was gone.

***

"I don't like this Andre - I don't like this at all." In their seats the managers watched Christine with more then a little anxiety. Since her departure they had quietly paid the phantoms salary, and until three nights ago it had seemed enough to alleviate them of his demands. "Why won't she act like a sensible woman and stay away from here!"

"Perhaps mousier, she does not wish to." The voice came from no where and everywhere all at once though only the managers heard it. With widening eyes Fermin suddenly found his fears confirmed as the piano began playing on its own accord. The music was unpleasantly familiar to their ears and on stage Christine moved forward in a bittersweet recognition, a half smile upon her lips she felt the memories and pain of years gone by melt away into oblivion.

"The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn… we've past the point of no return…." As the last note held none could doubt that the Phantom of the Opera had returned to reclaim his place.

AN: Thank you all for the kind reviews, I really wasn't sure how the last chapter would go over - although to tell you the truth I had not so much meant to write Christine 'with a back bone' as I had meant to make her caring. For seven years she was willing to withstand Raoul's treatment of her, but the moment he lifted his hand to someone she cared about she refused to stand for it. Thank you again and I sincerely hope you like this story enough to finish reading it.


	9. Her Reason At Last

AN: Thank you to whoever noticed my bad French. J I don't speak a word of it and often spell check too quickly to notice what I'm doing. Thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed and all of you for waiting for this chapter. (No it's not the last one) But my computer died the Thursday before Easter Sunday and I just got it fixed yesterday. Thankfully my research papers didn't all die with it so I didn't have to start once again from scratch like I thought I would.

And _I'M GOING TO SEE PHANTOM! _*Calypso jumps around in delight* my seats are fourth row overhanging the Orchestra, but who the heck cares - It's Phantom! BTW, is anyone going to see Dance of the Vampires w/ Michael Crawford? Sorry… I'm still delirious over the fact that my computers alive and well.

****

Chap 9 

Her reason at last

In those weeks following the first read through of Hoffman the presence of the Phantom was not felt as heavily during rehearsals as they might have been. In the manager's office however the story was different; notes signed 'O.G.' began appearing as mysteriously as they had many years ago. And to the chagrin of both Andre and Fermin they extended to nearly every aspect of the opera house. Several dressing rooms, including the one that had been Christine's were restored. The orchestra underwent drastic changes as people were fired, promoted, or hired. The corpus de ballet was rearranged and many of the newer girls were fired and replaced with those more experienced. In a flurry of activity the Opera was restored to its place at the center of scandals and gossip as occasional 'episodes' graced performances courtesy of the Phantom. Some nights there would be unpleasant incidents followed by some small concession on the parts of the managers the following day. Such pranks seemed tiresome to Erik but his purpose was served when for the first time in years every seat was sold out nightly, bought by people watching the show on stage as much as the ones in the boxes. In fact the upcoming performance of Hoffman was so eagerly anticipated that the managers had sunk to selling many tickets at two or three times their normal price.

The public was by now aware that the entire performance would be done in masks and that the lead role would be rotated. Supposedly a 'long unsung diva' would be singing the part of Antonia, but because the rehearsals were kept under wraps none knew exactly just who was singing what. However the public was by now aware that the whole affair was for the departure of beloved dancer Meg Giry. Mlle. Giry was, as everyone knew, a good friend of Viscountess Christine de Changy, formerly Christine _Daee_, understudy to the Diva La Carlotta. Thus many thought that Christine de Changy would surely be singing, and rumor had it _here_ lie the reason for the Opera Ghosts return, after all, anyone who knew anything knew that she was the Phantoms sole obsession.

Raoul, being a patron of the arts, was also privy to much of the gossip surrounding Christine's return and he could have attested to the last rumor better then anyone, Christine included, and though outwardly he seemed unaffected inwardly he grew steadily worse. He knew better then anyone just how 'obsessed' the 'opera ghost' was with Christine, and for the first time he began to wonder if it worked the other way as well.

For Ilisandra's sake Raoul and Christine had begun speaking again - if only marginally. He had apologized to Helene about his actions for the same reason but still she shied away from him and seemed (in his eyes) to flinch whenever he called her. To the public they were as they'd always been, the ideal couple, but not a single person in their household was unaware of the strain upon their relationship. To Raoul, Christine choosing to wear Erik's ring was like an unpardonable sin. And however much he wanted to repair their relationship he faltered whenever he saw it. 

Christine herself begun to ignore the issues of her marriage once having decided that the next move was Raoul's to make. She herself did nothing for the same reason she had stayed in a loveless marriage in the first place; she had a daughter to raise and that daughter came first. Her heart called out to Erik, and since they had restored her dressing room she had gone there often in search of his company though she never seemed to found, little did she know just how often he stood on the other side of that mirror. Echoing her longing but unwilling to reveal himself Erik had watched her in silence, still waiting for her reason. 

On the day of their final rehearsal there was still no Hoffman to sing opposite Christine, but Meg was unwilling to give anyone the roll and decided that should worse come to worse Olympia's Hoffman would simply sing the second act as well. As the adults practiced for their performance in full regalia Ilisandra ran up to box five as she had during every rehearsal.

***

"Erik?" The sweet little voice that flitted into Box five was one that Erik looked forward to hearing every day. 

"Good afternoon Ilisandra." In the past four weeks she had become more dear to him then he thought possible, after all as darling as this child was she was still the daughter to Raoul and Christine. Yet somehow that ceased to matter once she had hugged him in greeting and crawled into his lap to watch the rehearsal from that vantagepoint. "How are you today?"

"I'm alright, but I don't mama is. She ate almost nothing at lunch today." Erik digested this information carefully. Many times in the past few days he had watched Christine sit silently in her dressing room, huddled against the wall as if without it she would fall. He thought at first that perhaps Raoul had yelled - or worse hit her. But it seemed that her affliction was as much emotional as physical. "She just seemed to sad… like you used to." Erik was surprised that that Ilisandra noticed and to lighten the mood he tickled her.

"And how would you know?" Between giggles Ilisandra struggled away from him and onto the floor. Sticking her tongue at him she ran around the box and dared him to catch her. Glad for the cover the curtains provided Erik ran after her feeling more then a little silly but somehow nearly euphoric none the less. He couldn't understand why Ilisandra was so free and easy around him, and had anyone told him that it had something to do with his mask he would not have believed it. But the truth of the matter was that his mask made her feel like she could remove hers, with him she could shed the layers of 'ladylike' behavior that her father and aunts had tried to implant in her since she was old enough to understand what they were saying. At last Erik stopped pretending to be slower and caught her. Laughing the two settled down and watched the Rehearsal.

In the middle of the second act a tall man strode into the auditorium and interrupted those on stage. "Father!" With a small yelp of dismay, Ilisandra recognized whom it was that had entered. Ilisandra cared for her father as all children do, but though he saw to her every material need he was the not the type of paternal figure who supplied their child with as much emotional support as financial. Ilisandra did not understand all this, but for her he was tied to everything that was strict and boring in her life - everything that existed outside of the opera house. "But he never comes here!" For a few brief moments he exchanged words with Christine, then she pointed towards the boxes and the two headed out of the auditorium. "But I don't want to go home yet!" Acting quickly Erik swept Ilisandra with him into the secret compartment box five hid putting a finger over her mouth so that she would be quiet. 

"I can't believe you'd simply let her wonder about an opera house like this!" Raoul's voice was every bit as grating in anger as it had been seven years ago, so much so that Erik almost winced when he heard it. "ILISANDRA!"

"Do calm down Raoul, Meg and I wondered about all the time, I'm certain that she's safe." Christine tried to placate Raoul, but it seemed that her words weren't doing much.

"You and Meg Giry weren't seven years old, and Meg was -." Raoul halted himself just in time as he saw an angry glint begin to form in Christine's eye, he had been about to say 'just a commoner' but then realized that Christine had been the same. " You and Meg didn't have to be dressed for the opera." 

"Do you mean to imply we performed without the benefit of clothing?" Christine began to sound annoyed and Raoul realized it, but his temper was as quick as hers and retaliation was not something he meant to be denied.

"Don't be so crude I only meant that -"

"You meant that you intend to parade Ilisandra in front of all your friends tonight and that you came from better breeding stock." Christine knew very well that she was being both crude and vulgar, everything a Viscount's wife shouldn't be, but for some reason she couldn't restrain herself.

"That is quite enough Christine! I haven't the time to argue with you, I want to find Ilisandra." Raoul's dismissal of her only served to anger Christine more, and for once her gentle upbringing and fragile marriage were not enough to hold her tongue.

"What do you care for Ilisandra? You treat her like a pet, you see to it that she's taken care of by others and then neatly dressed and primped so that you can show her off." Not knowing that Ilisandra was in the box with them, Raoul and Christine made no attempt to lower their voices. From where he hid, Erik instinctively tightened his arms around her, knowing that hearing this would not be good for Ilisandra.

"Me? You Madame are the one letting her run around in an opera populated by a madman!" And so at last Raoul let the words he had so carefully been hiding come out. 

"Erik is not a madman." Christine's voice was oddly cold, and Erik felt Ilisandra shudder at it. He felt her look up at him in questioning but he only motioned for her to stay silent.

"You wouldn't know, you've deluded yourself into thinking you love him." Christine knew he was baiting her and said nothing, angrier now Raoul became more honest. " Don't you understand? He seduced you with his music and all that really ties you to him is that - Music! Not love! Look at you - you wear his ring and sing in his opera house - do you think he could possibly love you?" had Ilisandra not been there, Erik would've been tempted to kill Raoul for those words. How could this impudent boy possibly understand just how far his love for Christine extended.

"You're wrong Raoul." Christine began to smile a little now, and combined with the ice in her tone it was frightening. "I don't think I love him - I always have. Or did you forget that you forced me to leave with you that night by the lake? And I know he loved me - he killed for me. Would you? Or don't you remember that you were the one who married me for my music. Remember? You only loved me so long as I sang… He would have loved me forever." There was resounding silence at that, Christine's head swam with the enormity of what she'd admitted as Erik tried to digest what he had heard. Ilisandra was purely in shock and Raoul was lost somewhere in a sea of grief and anger.

"So you would give up everything I've given you. Wealth, comfort, stature - all of it, for the love of a madman?" Raoul clenched his teeth and rounded on her. "Well don't think I'll ever abandon my daughter to you!" With a resounding stomp he pivoted out of the room. With him went Christine's anger, like a rag doll she fell limp against one of the seats. And began crying with all her heart. In their hiding place Ilisandra and Erik exchanged a silent message of understanding.

With the grace of wind, they were once again in the box, and it was not till Christine felt a long slender hand tilting her chin up. Before her stood Erik and in one hand he held out a handkerchief. "How much did you - "

"Everything." Without a word he wiped off her tears with one gloved hand. Then retreated as Ilisandra came forward and wrapped her arms around her mother.

"Please don't cry mama!" For Ilisandra's Sake Christine pulled herself together and turned to Erik with a forced smile. 

"I thought you didn't carry handkerchiefs." 

"Since I met you it seems that I have to." He gave her a small smile and then caressed her cheek. "And it seems that you've given me a reason after all." He walked backwards a few steps and then seemed to vanish. Leaving Christine and Ilisandra alone in the dark of box five. Tonight t seemed, there would be more then one opera on the stage of the Paris Opera house.

*Please thank my cousin for marrying a computer consultant if you like this chapter. Without him, I really don't think I could've gotten it fixed in time. 


	10. Tales of Hoffman

Chap 10

The Tales of Hoffman

The opera house filled with society's elitists as the sun set over the city of lights. In the lobby and elsewhere one could not stand still for three minutes without seeing an aristocrat or dandy walk by. The commoners too were out in numbers, those who hadn't come to see the opera had come to stare at those who had. The managers and many of the chorus were dazed by the turnout, and Mme. Fermin remarked that perhaps they should let little Meg Giry (who was no longer so little) direct more masked operas.

Backstage the many performers who would grace the stage that night were experiencing excitement of a completely different type. It was barely ten minutes till curtain time yet still no one would say who would be singing Hoffman in the third act. 

Barred behind the door of her dressing room Christine was completely oblivious to the emotions raging outside. Instead, she stared trance like at two dozen long stem roses that had appeared out of no where only a few moments ago. They were beautiful roses - all perfect as if they had been hand picked one by one. Slowly Christine picked up the flowers and stroked the petals of the rose closest to her. At her touch it began to sing, as if awakened by the warmth of her skin. She should have dropped them in shock, but the song she heard was so beautiful that her only instinct was to stand still and lose her self to the rapture of the music. When it ended a wave of lacking washed over, making her feel its absence as deeply as if it had been a solid entity. Sadly she set them down and picked up the card that had accompanied them, but before she had a chance to open it a knocking sounded at her door.

***

It was difficult for Raoul to watch an opera that gnawed as strongly at his guilt and pride as_ Les Contes d'Hoffmann_ did. Lindorf, who would steal Hoffman's lover from him, was too much like Raoul himself for comfort and when said Lidorf came on stage he could no longer bare to sit still and watch. Making up an excuse he nearly ran out of the box from which he watched abandoning Ilisandra to Helene as his father had often abandoned him to his nurses. He marched in the direction of Christine's dressing room though he had no intention of actually going there. The tide between them had become too hide for him to try and ford, but in the end he realized there was no where else where he could wait out the rest of the first act. 

With dejection he knocked on the door of her room to find that no one would answer him, when he was at last about to leave it finally opened to reveal Christine with a robe about her. "Raoul?" She seemed more astounded then she angry and he silently thanked God that she had not simply closed the door in his face.

"May I come in?" Nodding as if preoccupied Christine stepped away the door in without so much as looking at him, motioning him in as she might've motioned a pet into their house. Picking up a brush she moved to stand in front of a mirror as worked with her hair, not so much ignoring him as simply not acknowledging his presence. Unwilling to give into what he perceived as her game he turned his back to her and walked to her dresser, absently noticing the roses there. Out of sheer boredom he opened the card beside them and read it, with each word of the short message he became angrier. Till at last sheer rage seized him and forced him to explode out of the chair, flinging the card at her. "You impudent wench! So now you would give him my daughter as well!" Remembering just how thin the walls were, Raoul barely managed to control his voice. Literally shaking he picked up the roses from her desk and tore them apart flinging each handful at her as he did so. To enraged to speak he stood still until his rage had subsided a little before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Shaking Christine didn't know what to think - what had Erik written that would make Raoul so mad? Picking up the card she read the message that had been intended for her eyes alone. _Dear Christine, here are two dozen roses. One is for you who will always be my angel, and one is for Ilisandra who will remain my little Prima Donna. Erik _Had Raoul not read the card first, the words would have brought a smile to her eyes, now though they only brought tears. 

Bending down she began gathering the petals and stems together, now audibly sobbing. Suddenly Erik was there besides her and she found that his shoulder made a very comfortable place for crying. "Why - why did you let him do that?" her words were muffled and broken, but no more then Erik's heart. If he'd known the roses would bring her tears he would never have sent them. "Why didn't you come."

"My presence would've only made the situation worse." Erik spoke so that his voice was calming, the words were too, although there were actually lies. The truth of the matter was that had he come through the mirror he would've killed Raoul on the spot - and however much he hated the man he did not want to create any unnecessary difficulties of Christine. He relished the feel of her in his arms, even if she was crying, and as much as he didn't want to let go he knew that if she continued crying she would be too horse to sing that night. "Hush now, they were only roses." Pushing her away from him he miraculously produced a handkerchief and began wiping at her tears. "You know it's lucky that we're performing in masks tonight - otherwise you'd look like a kitten who'd almost been drowned." The words had their desired effect and Christine giggled a little, quieting her sobbing. His presence seemed to calm her, and Raoul's destruction of her precious singing flowers didn't seem quite so bad.

"But - how - no, where did you find _singing_ roses?" Erik smiled again, but it was more mysterious then comforting. Without warning the flower petals seemed to start speaking, each and everyone talking to Christine. 

"Christine, it's a secret."

"Don't cry Christine."

"Erik found us just for you."

They seemed to speak all at once and yet one at a time. It was confusing but pleasant, and as she gathered the petals into a satchel they became more and more quiet until they left nothing but silence. "How remarkable." Putting the Satchel carefully on her dresser she began to gather together the stems. Not careful she pricked her finger on a thorn. "Ouch!" Pulling back from the stems, her hand was on its way to her mouth when Erik intercepted it. (AN: minds out of the gutter folks.) As she bled onto the white glove he wore the air room suddenly thickened with solemnity.

"Of all the lives I've taken… I never thought I would your blood on my hands." Seemingly fixated by the dark red stain, he didn't look up at her. Christine saw that it was horror which filled his eyes and for the first time she seemed to know exactly what was running through his mind. 

"Please don't say that. You could never hurt me as much when you're with me then you would if you weren't." Pulling her hand out of his she hugged him tightly before pulling back with a smile on her face. How odd it seemed that their roles had been reversed so quickly. "Now if you don't mind, it's already the second act and I'm the first person on stage during the third. I think I should probably change and begin to warm up my voice - don't you?" Nodding, Erik gave a graceful bow before disappearing into the mirror. 

Standing up Christine went to her closet and took out the costume she was to wear. As she began removing her robe, the corner of her eye caught the mirror and she began to blush in a way she hadn't in a long time. If Erik could sing to her from behind her mirror, did it mean that he could watch her too? 

***

Ilisandra sank in to her seat and dug her hand into Helene's, Father had returned in the last act fuming in silence, to the rest of the world he seemed perfectly normal, enjoying the opera as it were. But Ilisandra knew him better then that, in the way of all children she could see when something was wrong, even if it was beneath the surface. Wistfully she thought that this was nothing like watching an opera with Erik that Chastened herself for thinking like that, Erik said he would sing tonight - surely hearing his voice was worth the stuff dress and daddy's bad temper. 

On the stage the curtains began to open and before the first strains of one of Mama's songs began playing. Her voice followed soon after and Ilisandra was mesmerized by the sheer beauty found there. It wasn't music, indeed it was everything emotional that music stood for. Mama wore a mask, and she was disguised as the beautiful but ill-fated Antonia, a talented soprano who had love torn from her and music made forbidden on pain of death. Lost between the joy of rapture and the sorrow that surely everyone there could feel Ilisandra found her heart soul reeling with the music and wondering just where this woman who was her mother hid when she could not sing.

Raoul heard too, he heard the music that he had so long been denied and for a few brief moments his anger was forgotten - forgotten until _his_ voice joined hers. In the audience there many intakes of breath - for when had they been honored by a voice such as this? A voice that would surely make even Israfel in heaven soul sick with envy, a voice that would capture the heart of any all who heard it. Raoul watched his daughter and felt her float away from him in the way he knew Christine already had, and that knowledge tightened the net of anger and fear around his heart. Yet even he was not immune to that tragic beautiful voice. A voice that could the stars of heaven weep and the sun grow cold with pity. It was a voice wasted on this opera, and the one that responded to it was beautiful but not equal. When the strains of their ended the audience could not help but sigh. And when Antonia fell dead in lovers arms, not one in the audience could help but let the tears fall from their eyes. 

At the end of the act there was standing ovation, from those out in the opera house as well as those behind the curtains. Yet oddly enough, despite mad capped applause neither the mask Antonia nor her mysterious Hoffman could be seen. Only later did anyone remember the rumors that the Phantom was to have a part in this opera, after all - when could any phantom sing with such an essence of humanity?

***

In her Dressing Room Christine listened to the distant applause from the floor, sitting at Erik's feet in the way she once had when he would read to her. The applause in her mind was more imagined then actual - remnants of what she'd heard as they left the stage. It was applause she had waited a lifetime to hear, the applause that her father had always wanted for her, and it was Erik who had given her that, just as he had always promised.

"Come with me?" His voice broke into her thoughts, and with hesitance she opened her eyes. To look at he who had asked the question. "Come back to me?"

Christine had expected the question, but someone it managed to take her by surprise, in her mind she thought of a million answers, yet years of hesitance were not easily bypassed. "I…. I love you Erik." She looked up at him in helplessness, wondering why she could not simply give him the 'yes' that they both wanted. "But I can't leave Ilisandra behind… I can't deny her the future she might have." 

Erik didn't believe her, didn't believe that she could do this to him. "You're a coward Christine, a coward and a prisoner. If I had any sense I would've left you behind the day you walked out of this opera house." Barely containing his anger Erik nearly threw back the chair he was sitting in, but for once Christine did not sit still and feel sorry for herself.

"No!" Grabbing at him, she nearly pulled him off balance. "I won't let you do this to me Erik - I love you! Don't you understand that? But I can't say any more Good-byes Erik, not tonight." She looked him in the eyes and he was able to see that it was not just desperation in there. "Just me give time to say my good-byes." The look that Erik gave her was one she did not recognize, and one that she did not wish to, but his words said what he could not.

"I've waited seven years Christine. How could you doubt that I would ever stop waiting for you?" He pulled back then and she knew that he would be there. Whether she chose tomorrow or a year from tonight, so long as he lived he would always be there, waiting, in his heart and in his mind. For Her. 

Done!

Just kidding (as if I'd ever leave you with an ending like that!) but if I don't get reviews it will be. J 


	11. A night on the Seine

Disclaimer: I know nothing about ships, so if some part of this is inaccurate please forgive me.

Chap 11

A night on the Seine

On the deck of _L'ange, a_ ship Meg had chartered for her engagement party, Christine strolled languidly besides Meg Giry and Lady Diane Elision, the wife of Earl David Elision senior and the mother of Earl David Elision Jr. She was a plump woman and, much to Meg's relief, a women more intent on getting to know her son's fiancé then condemning her. "Personally, I've always thought that _La ville de Luminere_ was a fairly inappropriate nickname for Paris, now I realize that it is because I've never seen it quite like this."

"Our city is very lovely at night, but I hear that London is too." Meg and Lady Elision still seemed to feeling around each others space, but to Christine it seemed that they were well on their way to a familiarity she and Raoul's sisters had never obtained. It had been nearly a month since the performance of Hoffman and conditions between Christine and Raoul had not improved in the least, but knowing that Erik would wait for her put Christine at peace. In the last month she had made preparations to ready herself for leaving him, preparations which included replacing certain jewels Raoul had given her with glass so that the gems could then be fenced for money. As they walked Christine's mind began drifting over the dark still waters, wondering if her angel was there somewhere watching her. It was a foolish thought since they were in the middle of the river, but her mind refused to let go of the notion. As she drifted away she lost the thread of the conversation and didn't realize that anyone had spoken to her until Raoul's hand descended on her shoulder.

"May we speak for a moment?" Christine came out of her mind in not so much with a start as in a haze, not quite sure who had spoken to her since her thoughts were so filled with Erik, when her eyes at last locked on her husband she was both disappointed and confused.

"If Lady Elision will allow it, of course." Lady Elision nodded her consent and continued her way with Meg leaving Christine and Raoul alone. Once they were out of sight, Raoul's good countenance immediately disappeared and was replaced by a rather grim expression.

"Things can't go on like this Christine. I can't live my life in this manor and I don't believe it's fair that you should as well." Christine stayed quiet as he spoke she had been expecting something of this sort for a long time. "I think that - you were right that day when you said I couldn't love you correctly and I know that you love your Angel of Music too much to ever truly love me. Now, I think I can at last set you free." Christine was surprised at his frankness, she had not expected him to let her leave so easily - unfortunately he wasn't finished. "We will be fully divorced legally, but if you should wish it I will provide a month allowance so that you might keep a small flat and maid. You will of course have nothing to do with my daughter." This last bit of news came as a nasty shock to Christine, for of all the terms she had expected him to set this was not one of them.

"I can do without your money Raoul, but I will NOT allow you to take her away." Christine faced Raoul but she seemed more to look more through him then at him. "She is my daughter in every sense of the word, and your child only in blood. If I leave then she will come with me."

Raoul listened to his wife with something much akin to scorn. How could she possibly claim Ilisandra as her own? Christine showed no devotion to him, and thus she could not possible be devoted to her family, or so he thought. Unbeknownst to him Ilisandra was listening from the shadows only a few feet away, having stopped to hide there after seeing her parents against the rail of the ship. (AN: Picking up some bad habits from Erik isn't she?) "You don't seem to understand Christine, I am divorcing you, thus I set the terms. Run into your Angels arm if you will but don't think for a second that you'll take Ilisandra with you." Having said his piece Raoul turned away and left hoping that what he'd said tonight would have the impact he wanted on Christine's future behavior.

Left alone Christine neither cried nor fumed as Raoul had expected her too, instead she simply stood there in a cold sort of acceptance. She had expected him to take the most difficult path and now that he had, she was left with few options. To take Ilisandra away from her father would be cruel, yet to leave her behind was something her heart would not bear. "Where are you now my angel?" Christine had spoken into the dark but the she had been seeking an answer from herself, causing her to nearly fall overboard when the darkness answered back.

"I am here." Behind her Erik emerged from the shadows. "I have always been here." Christine's heart leapt about wildly in her chest crowed with both confusion and love. "Have you chosen?" Christine didn't want to speak, and for once words did not seem sufficient. Looking up slowly she leaned in and kissed Erik full on the lips, and at last they had come full circle.

"Ick! Why are you two always kissing?" Behind them an impish face appeared with its nose scrunched up and its mouth half-smiling. Pulling apart Christine and Erik weren't quite sure what to say, and while one turned bright red, the other turned severely to the unwanted spectator.

"Don't you know it's impolite to stare Ilisandra? It simply isn't acceptable behavior." Ilisandra frowned a little and lowered her head as she reached out to be picked up. Obliging her Erik carefully set her against his hip to Christine the movement seemed very natural on both their parts.

"I know, but I heard daddy say that I couldn't see mommy again and I was scared." Dropping her head onto Erik's shoulder Ilisandra looked up at him with big trusting eyes. "You won't let him do that will you?" 

"No, of course not." In a child's world such a promise seemed simple, and the implications of how it would be kept were not there. "Ilisandra, you're mama will be leaving though, she and I both. Your father does not wish us to stay, but you will be very safe in his care. Your Mama loves you, and you will certainly see her again but it may be awhile before you can see either her or me."

"But why? Why can't I just go with you?" Ilisandra felt like crying, it seemed that her world be bleak and very empty without either her mama or Erik. In her own way she knew her papa loved her, but it wasn't the type of love that bound children and parent eternally.

"If you came with us, you would never - not in all your life - be able to see your father again." Erik's voice was cajoling as he said this, his tone musical and completely different from what his words seemed to say. Christine wanted to tell Erik that using manipulation on children was NOT acceptable behavior, however desperation and an unwillingness to loose her daughter made her bite her tounge.

"I think… I think I wouldn't mind not seeing Papa if I could see you and Maman… and if I could have my music… please Erik, don't leave me." Ilisandra's plaintive little voice made Christine fall back towards the net in which she had been trapped so long, but things had already been set in motion and she knew in heart that this time there was no going back.

***

Raoul stood with a group of gentlemen in the ships smoking room. Though he smiled and chatted as he always did his mind was still on deck with Christine. Something seemed off about the conversation they had just had. Something about her was far too reassured and far too calm. In his experience, women who were divorced tended to be distraught and hysterical where as Christine… slowly Raoul's face began to drain of color. An idea that was far to morbid for his usual contemplation began forming. What if she intended to become a widow rather then a divorcee? 

Her angel had killed for her before, and it was unquestionable that he would do it again. Suddenly a violent shake caused the ship to convulse, and like those around him, Raoul fell to the ground rather violently. And as they stood up the men carefully questioned each other as they rather civilly protested their indignation at it all. "The engines flooded!" The shout came from an attendant that came suddenly bursting into the room. "Everyone on deck please! This ship is equipped with life boats, and there are other vessels coming our way." Before he could finish the attendant found himself nearly blown over by the surge of 'gentleman' that came running his way. 

***

"Christine! Ilisandra!" In the mayhem on deck Raoul tried desperately to locate his wife and daughter. It seemed however that all the ladies had found time to don their cloaks and as such it was very difficult to distinguish one from the other. "Christine!" at last he spotted one blue velvet opera cloak that he faintly remembered paying for. When he grabbed the woman who was wearing it however, he found that it was Helene who wore it. Grasped tightly in her arms however was his little Ilisandra. "Ilisandra! Come with me, quickly." Without looking any further for Christine, Raoul grabbed his daughter roughly away from Helene and quickly dragged her towards the nearest lifeboat. It was not long however until he received a rather rude shock.

"No!" Violently Ilisandra yanked her arm away from her father. " I want my Maman!" 

"Don't be foolish, you're coming with me!" Raoul reached out for her hand again, but she only pulled back once more.

"No! You don't even care about her you always make her cry!" Without a word she turned and ran off into the fray. _You always make her cry._ Raoul stood for a second in stunned shock, and it was not until he had been escorted onto a lifeboat that it occurred to him that perhaps not searching further for Christine had not been the wisest of his decisions.

***

Much later those who had formerly been aboard _L'ange_ were gathered on one of the Seine's shores all the rescued had been deposited there and the crew of the ship had taken a count of those who were found. Of the passenger list only three people remained to be accounted for, and as the hours passed it seemed less likely that they would be found. At last the three missing people were announced and they were, to the shock of all, the Viscountess DeChayne, her daughter, and her maid. 

From where he sat Raoul could only let out a strangled sob, at last he was able to face all the mistakes that he had made as a husband and a father. Now though it was too late for any amendments to be made, to late for him to apologize to those who truly mattered. As he mulled over the past days, weeks, and years he was able at last to see his own soul in the small hours of the morn. But the soul he found was a twisted and broken one and one that he did no care to see. That it took the death of his daughter and wife to bring him to this epiphany was something else that he could not bear and the weight of it soon brought the tears falling from his eyes.

A little further on Meg lay with her head on David's shoulder, her hand lay gently within that of Mrs. Elision. The three watched Raoul with pity yet none could cry for his loss. It was as if they knew some higher truth some secret that Raoul could never hope to grasp.

***

AN: Well, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed there's just one more chapter left to go - but I would like to ask you something. Does the tone of this chapter sound different somehow from the others? I ask because I've been writing Dark Angel/Witchblade fanfiction lately and those pieces usually take on a very different tone then Phantom Phics. I hope you enjoyed this though, and I hope you stay for my grande finale!


	12. Return to Light

Chap 12

Return to Light

The Paris Opera House - 1911

The shores of the underground lake were dark save for a single lantern, held in one slim hand of a tall woman with chestnut hair and liquid brown eyes that shown with tears. Her other hand rested in that of the even taller man besides her, clinging tightly to him as if she needed his support. "I'm glad Mother and Father couldn't come… how it would pain them to see this." A tear rolled down her check, and the man beside her wrapped an arm around her. Erik was speechless with anger, anger at who ever had torn their home apart like this and anger the world for its having to change. 

The underground lair which had for so long been their vacationing home had been desecrated and destroyed. Fathers organ had been torn apart and of the few things they had left here only one or two remained. "I suppose things had to change, but I never thought that this would… why do things have to Illie?" Ilisandra Daaé-Lockwood couldn't answer her brother, at least not truthfully, at nineteen he was still a bit of the bright-eyed wanderer that she had once been. She couldn't tell him the truth of the world's intolerance and its hatred, with a sudden surge of rage made her want to stay here, made her wanted to cry and rage and scream. Seeing the emotions his question provoked Erik tried to turn the conversation elsewhere. "Illie, tell me why we left? Why we stayed in England so long? Why we haven't come back until now." As he spoke Erik turned her around and led Ilisandra towards the water's edge, eagerly awaiting her response. In truth he had a pretty good idea as to what she would say, but he had never heard the entire story of his parents and his sister and he was hoping that he might at last receive the truth.

Looking at him, Ilisandra didn't think that she should tell him the whole truth, but perhaps it was time perhaps it was as much time for truths as it was for memories. "It started before I was born, when father helped build this opera house. It was his brain child, the joining of his love fore music and art, and he lived here for many years until mother came in 1881. Grandfather had died three years before that and Mama was a chorus girl with a broken heart and wounded spirit…."

As she told the tale Erik rowed them slowly across the lake, his eyes widening when he heard of the Vicomte de Chagny for the first time, and his movement stopping altogether when he heard that this man was Ilisandra's father - that Ilisandra was his half sister. At last she had almost spoken the entire story and they were nearly at the surface once more. "…The year you turned five I was thirteen, Mama decided that it was time I attended a proper conservatory. Father thought it was ridicules, what he and Maman had taught me was certainly more then any conservatory could've taught but she argued that I needed to see the world and learn that there were things outside of Paris. She also argued that you were growing and that you needed to know the light. Father never could say no to her… so we went to England. With Aunt Meg and Uncle David's help papa was able to start an architecture business and Mama decided to take a few vocal students. We didn't need the money, we never have, but Mama refused to be just another useless woman and the scandal was soon buried by the success of her students and the merits of her own voice. I think they choose correctly Erik, father lived in darkness because he had to but we were able to bring him into the light." She smiled weakly, and he could see that telling this story had been difficult for her. "Look at you little brother, 19 and already graduated from Oxford! You have all of father's architectural talents and make a life upon the stage if you so choose. We've turned out well brother, you and I both." As they spoke they walked, and Erik decided that she was right.

"Lot 664: a wooden pistol and three human skulls from the 1831 production of "Robert le Diable" by Meyerbeer. Ten francs for this. Ten, thank you. Ten francs still. Fifteen, thank you, sir Fifteen I am bid. Going at fifteen. Your number, sir?" As they neared the auditorium the sound of an Auctioneer and his gravel came to their ears. Stopping for a second, they watched the auctioneer sell off parts of the opera house that had been so dear to them both as children.

"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen: a papier-mâché musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order." Erik hissed through his teeth when he heard what the item was, and Ilisandra could tell that he was about to go forward.

"Showing here." The Porter wound it up and Ilisandra too felt a flash of anger.

"Mothers music box!" Erik took a step and Ilisandra restrained him, knowing what he was like when angry.

"No Erik, don't!" Erik didn't heed his sister's words and she was forced to pull him back towards her once more. "Go outside and tell our driver to bring the carriage forward, James will expecting us soon." 

"My I start at twenty francs? Fifteen, then? Fifteen I am bid." The auctioneer's voice irritated them but Erik stopped to think. James Lockwood was Ilisandra's husband and a man that Erik admired and while it perturbed Erik to see his mother's property desecrated so he didn't want to be late either. Nodding curtly Erik stomped angrily out of the Opera house willing to let this go though bloody murder streamed through his mind.

Ilisandra gazed after him fondly for a moment, but then turned back to the auction going on, deciding that she might try to buy it herself. Before she could raise her arm however a familiar face caught her eye. For a moment she froze, her heart thudding within her, then she drew her cowl low over her head, hoping that he hadn't seen her.

The man she had seen was old, looking more like sixty then fifty, hunched and thin in the way that age made all people. He might've been handsome once, and his features retained a quiet dignity even now. He sat close to her, only a few paces away. "Father." The word was whispered softly, half with sorrow and half with recognition. She had never expected to see him again, with memory he had faded into her past. She had her family now she had Mother, Father, Erik, and James, family that loved and understood her, as he never had. She watched him a few moments more, wondering what had become of his life, until she heard the auctioneer's voice break through her thoughts "Sold, for thirty francs to the Vicomte deChagny. Thank you, sir"

Ilisandra took a step forward, a hand half-out, then stopped when she heard him speak. "A collector's piece indeed . . . every detail exactly as she said . . . She often spoke of you, my friend .... Your velvet lining, and your figurine of lead..." So he knew that this was mothers, did he know about her as well? "Will you still play, when all the rest of us are dead?" So he had forgotten after all, or perhaps he truly thought her dead. _She is dead_ the words startled her, and she was surprised that they came from her own mind. _Ilisandra DeChangy died many a year ago. _With the revelation came a strange sort of peace, a realization that she owed him nothing. Drawing her hand back into her clock Ilisandra gazed at him once last time.

"Goodbye father." With that final, quiet, good-bye she turned and walked slowly away, back into the sun and back into the light.

~Fini~

Final Notes

Thank you to everyone whom reviewed and read this, it's meant the world to me. Writing this has been for me, it has been a pleasure and self-indulgence, reading your reviews have always brought a smile to my face - and still do mind you! Thank you once again for sharing this amazing experience with me and I hope that you have loved this story as much as I have and that it was able to provide you with the least bit of inspiration. Best of luck,

Calypso

  



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